


Never Meant to Stay

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 10:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: When a storm drives him near a chain of islands, and then something hidden beneath the waters tears a hole in his hull, Jason is forced to beach his ship on one of them to repair it before he and his crew can leave. Except there's something Jason keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye, and it's definitely not friendly.





	Never Meant to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

Jason counts the storm as the point where everything started to go wrong. They were never supposed to get blown this far off course, or be near this chain of islands. The ship was sure as hell never supposed to take on water, forcing them to beach it in the shallows as they tried to fix the _massive hole_ in the hull. He still has no idea what they hit to do that; a rock outcropping hidden under the waves, maybe? Whatever it was gave them all of two seconds of warning in the form of a shudder and terrible _wrench_ hard enough to throw one of his crew overboard, before they started to list.

It was just about all they could do to get the ship in against the sand before the whole hold flooded, and dragging it up onto the beach so they could work on it was almost too much for his crew to actually manage. They just don't have the people to make it easy; not with the water in the hold weighing everything down. The hole in the hull is a splintered mess of a thing, easily seven feet across and four wide, and it only takes a minute of looking at it for Jason to conclude that they’re going to be here a good few weeks if they want to patch it properly. It takes more like an hour to make a mental list of all the problems that are cropping up, one by one, and how to fix them all.

Firstly, the thrown-overboard member of his crew is nowhere to be found. Vanished under the waves. No time for a funeral now, but he makes a note to at least say something later. He hates to lose any of his crew, but there just isn't the _time_ to focus on it right now. Secondly, everything they had in the hold that wasn't immaculately waterproofed is either soaked through or utterly destroyed, and that includes too much of their supplies to be comfortable. There's enough to keep the rest of his crew going for a couple weeks, but not enough to supply the journey to actually get home afterwards, and that could be… bad. They'll need to restock everything they need from the islands; food and fresh water both.

The most immediate problem is that the island they're on has nothing in the way of shelter, or anything but some palm trees and bushes. They'll need to take the rowboats and travel to one of the larger, relatively close ones to find anything. Food, wood for repairs, and ideally something a bit more sheltering than some propped up tarps on the sand. They can't move the ship far enough to get it to one of the other islands, and if another storm crops up… (Not that a storm is the biggest concern; the sun will do enough damage on its own, with nowhere to hide from it but the beached ship.)

It's a daunting list, but there's nothing to do but get to it. The sooner they knock the priorities off the list, the sooner they can get around to actually fixing the ship.

He sets about a dozen of his crew to salvaging everything in the hold that's still good, and setting up some temporary shelter for when night rolls around. The rest of his crew he divides in two — leading one group himself — to take rowboats and head to the closest couple of islands. The most important thing they'll need is a source of drinkable water; Jason isn't sure what they have left but it isn't enough for a longer stay, he's sure. So scouting out their surroundings to find that is one of the first priorities.

There's a… flash of something as his rowboat pulls out into the water. Something silver and black that he sees out of the corner of his eye but is gone by the time he turns his head to actually look. There's a fading ripple in the water, washed away by the next wave, and Jason stares at the spot for a few moments. There's nothing there, and nothing to explain the flash of color except maybe some sort of jumping fish? A dolphin? He shakes his head and makes himself focus, taking up an oar next to his crew to help pull them to that other island. He has too many other things to worry about to waste time on something in the corner of his eye.

The island they reach is much bigger than the one they landed on. Real trees, and he can hear birdsong as they pull up. Wildlife; that eases his worries a bit. That means there's something besides fish to hunt for food. It means this place is big and lush enough to support an ecosystem. It means that somewhere here, there _has_ to be fresh water.

They pull the rowboat up onto the sand, and Jason splits his group into pairs of two to cover the island, with himself as the odd one out. He's tempted to relegate himself to staying beside the boat — take the job no one wants to be self-sacrificing — but his urge to explore wins out and he assigns one pair to stay at the boat instead of him. It means that he's exploring alone, but God knows it's going to be a mess of work for the foreseeable future so maybe he can enjoy having just a bit of time alone before all of that really starts. Just a tiny bit of relaxation. He loves his crew, but there's almost no privacy on the ship, and there won't be any for awhile yet. He can be selfish and enjoy solitude for a bit.

The island is easier to traverse than some of the others he's been on. It's limited to a few smaller hills; no craggy cliffs or mountains spiraling up towards the sky on this one. Thicker forest, birds announcing his every movement… His legs are still a bit wobbly from being back on land, but the place is… nice. Very pretty. He's too used to the ambient sound of waves and the creak of a ship to call the island 'peaceful,' but it's nice in its own way. Green and wild in a way that's mostly unfamiliar.

He keeps walking.

His course stays straight as he moves, until he hears the sound of water. Not the sea, but trickling water; a river, maybe. Tracking it is simple enough, and he finds a small brook, follows it upstream until it broadens out into a larger flow. It's full of rocks, and then as he continues there are pools off to the sides of it. Unconnected to the river itself, but pockmarking the land around it and with deep, dark centers that he can't see the bottom of. He wonders, with more than a little wariness, where those bottoms go. (He thinks he sees another flicker of silver in one, but it could just as easily be a reflection from the sun and he doesn't get more than a glimpse.)

The first glimpse of the larger pool, about twice the size of the others and big enough to fit a dozen people, easily, is through the trees. He almost misses it, buried in the undergrowth and behind trees as it is, but he happens to look just the right direction as a piece of it comes into view between two trunks. Enough to see that it's a bigger pool, and to make him curious about it. He takes another glance at the river, considering, before he shifts off to the side and to the pool. It's just a small detour.

He's only about ten feet away when he gets a clear view, and it stops him in his tracks. There's a… a _man_ in the pool, bent backwards with his torso splayed out on the rock, arms lifted over his head and stretched out far enough for his fingers to touch the dirt past the shelf of rock around the water. Sunlight and shadow are dappling the pale skin of his chest and stomach, and Jason feels his throat dry up as his gaze catches on the slow rise and fall of the man's chest. He swallows to try and fix that as he shifts forward to get a clearer view.

The man's on the smaller side, but lean muscle all the same, like some of his younger sailors. Black hair to his jaw, falling against the rock beneath his head, and he's… pretty. Dark eyelashes, higher cheekbones, and a set of slightly parted lips that his gaze maybe lingers on too long. Jason doesn't think he's seen the combination of 'pretty and pale' since he was last around nobles. It's been a long time.

Then the man stretches out a little farther, rolling onto his side and opening his eyes with a sigh. Jason doesn't flinch back fast enough to avoid the passing sweep of those eyes across the woods. They fixate on him; cool blue, a lighter shade like shallow waters. Jason freezes under the gaze. For a moment he doesn't breathe, doesn't dare to move, but the man just looks at him, head lifting somewhat to get a clearer view. Jason swallows again, finds his breath in a sudden burst and inhales sharply.

There's a smile.

"Hello," is called across the space between them; the man's voice is slightly deeper than he was expecting. Still much higher pitched than his own.

Jason swallows again. "Hi," he says automatically. "I, uh—” He pulls his gaze away, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. "I'm sorry; I didn't know anyone was on the island. I didn't mean to stare."

"It's alright." The man is still smiling when he looks back, and he watches as the man rolls to his stomach, pushing up on both arms. Jason's gaze sweeps down the curve of his back. The man is still hidden in the water from his waist down, but he yanks his gaze away before it can do any real damage regardless. "Did you sail in? Is there a ship? Are there others?"

"Yeah." Jason hesitates, but steps closer, through the bushes. He only goes far enough to step into the small clearing around the rock, and the man shifts to face him directly, looking up at him with an open, easy smile. "I'm the captain. My ship hit something and it put a hole in our hull; we have to stay on the islands until we can fix it. Are you… Do you live here? Alone?"

A nod. "Yes; just me." The man pushes a bit further out of the water, and Jason can't help his gaze falling to the firm muscle of the abdomen that lifts above the edge of the rock. "I'm Tim. You?"

"I—” Jason pauses, his gaze caught on something at the edge of that abdomen, just above the rock. A… fading of skin that looks almost silver at the last fraction he can see. That looks… different. "I'm—” What _is_ that?

He narrows his eyes, and then something in the pool moves and his gaze snaps towards it. A flicker of silver, and black, and it's the same flash he saw earlier he's _sure._ He still doesn't get a good look, but it makes him stare at the pool, makes him shift slightly to the side to get a better look to try and figure out what it was. And back behind Tim, as his gaze sweeps the pool, he catches a second flash. Smaller, but this one he can track to— to Tim's back. There, at the very bottom of his back, _just_ above the water, the skin turns to _scale_. It's— He's—

Jason takes a step back, sharp fear slicing up into his throat. He's a _merman_. Was that flash of silver and black he saw out on the rowboat this creature? Do these pools connect to the sea?

Tim _smiles_ , and there's a slightly sharper edge to it now, something hidden and predatory that he swears wasn't there before (but maybe he just didn't see it). The thing in the water flicks up, breaching the surface and spraying droplets in the air. It's a _tail_. Silver and black; dappled in a pattern as random as the sunlight was on his skin. Jason feels his blood run cold, and he gropes for his side, for his sword. He's on land; there's a mer and it's dangerous but this is _land_ and mermen don't sing like the maids do. They hunt, they don't lure. He can—

The mer's lips part, and Jason freezes at the sound that carries into the air. A single note of song, high and clear, echoing into his ears and making a chill slide down his spine. He blinks. His shoulders ease down. A part of him goes distant, and he can— can feel that but he's not sure it matters. He's not sure anything matters but the want that note inspires; to get closer, to hear _more_. The second note, lower, crooning, curls into the air and down his back. He shivers; his hand falling away from his sword.

His legs move him forward, crossing those last few feet without his conscious permission. One pale hand lifts; fingers thin and delicate, and Jason doesn't know why he takes it but he does. He sinks down to his knees as that hand slides up, curling around his wrist, thumb pressing into the base of it and pulling him down. His breath comes shallow, and the merman smiles at him. Those blue, blue eyes are intent on his.

Unease creeps up from the pit of his stomach, as that thumb rubs against his wrist, as fingers squeeze it. He closes his eyes for a moment, as that distant part in the back of his mind starts to become clearer. Mers are… dangerous. Teeth and claws and— and _siren song_. Predators. He has to—

His eyes fly open at a quiet, "What's your name, Captain?"

"I—” He shakes his head, bracing his free hand on the ground to shift backwards. "I shouldn't— Let go of me. Let—”

The hand on his wrist _tugs_ , and he gasps as he reels towards the mer, other hand coming up to try and get between them. His hand shoves against a shoulder, but there's an open mouth and sharp teeth headed towards his neck and god he's about to _die_ and no one will ever—

Another note of song is let loose right into his ear, drifting out into a melody that slides across the registers with ease. Jason feels himself go loose, leaning into the sound, his head falling close to black hair. He breathes slowly, evenly, as he relaxes into the last few fading notes. It's like a blanket laid over his shoulders, warm and soft and welcoming. He know that there are teeth close enough to his throat to bite, and he knows that should scare him but it just… doesn't.

"What's your name?" the mer whispers into his ear.

Jason shivers as the hand on his wrist trails fingertips up his lower arm, raising goosebumps. "Jason," he breathes. "You're— You're not supposed to sing. Only maids sing."

" _Jason._ " Tim presses closer, pressing up against his torso, breath rushing hot over his throat. "You're very handsome, Captain. But why should I hunt you when I can coax you in? This is easier, isn't it? I sing, and you come to heel."

He isn't sure where the compulsion comes from (he _knows_ , that distant part of him says, but it's so muted, so quiet) but he just wants to answer. He leans into the touch, lowering his head to press his nose against that hair, take a breath that smells like sea and salt. "Yes. I… What do you want?"

A nose presses beneath his chin, then lips against his jaw and the stubble there. "I've been following you, Jason, since you came near my islands. Such a striking figure you made, up on the deck. Tall, and what a lovely voice you have. I listened to you calling orders to your crew, how it echoed over the water… I knew I had to see you up close."

"You…” It's _hard_ to get his mind to focus past the haze over it. "You put the hole in my ship. We didn't run into anything."

There's a soft laugh. "Oh, does that scare you, Jason? Don't worry, I'll let your crew repair it. I'll even let them leave; most of them, anyway." Jason sucks in a breath as a tongue swipes out over his jaw, to the edge of his ear. "But you… You're staying, Captain. You're going to be mine."

A hand presses against his chest, and Jason doesn't have the will to resist being pushed down to the ground, guided to the side until he's flat on his back stretched out beside the rock, and Tim is leaning over him. The hand pressed to his chest stays, and the breath is shoved out of him as the mer leverages himself up onto the rock with it, scales audibly scraping as he climbs up. Jason feels a dull sort of fear as a long, wet tail comes up out of the water and drapes over his legs; heavier than he expected and too much for him to move without strength he can't seem to find.

"Yours?" is all he manages, breathlessly.

"That's right." Both hands slide up, cupping his face and tilting his head up. The nails on those hands scrape through his hair, and Tim looks pleased when he gives a small groan at the sensation, his own fingers pressing against the rock and the dirt. "I've been looking for someone to keep here with me; one of my own, or one of your kind. Most of my kind don't trust me, and you're weak and delicate, but you're pretty enough I can ignore that."

Water is soaking into his clothing, cold against his skin. "Why? What do you want from me?"

The hands in his hair pull his head up, and Tim leans in, lips brushing over his. They're cool but dry, and it lasts no longer than a brief moment. "You're going to be my mate, Captain. You'll get used to it, with a bit of time, and I'll take care of you as long as you survive it."

Real alarm gets past the fog in his mind, and he shudders, pushing against the ground, trying to get out from under the tail. "No, _no_. I'm not—”

The hands on his head tighten into a vice, shoving him back into the ground. " _Hush_ , Jason. Just listen to my voice. _Listen_."

Jason jerks his hands up, trying to cover his ears but he's just a moment too late. The song cuts through his alarm, easing it away even as he struggles, trying to get away and resist it. A helpless sound escapes him in response, as the grip on his skull loosens and he finds himself utterly unable to fight. He shakes, as the song eats away at every bit of tension in him until he's limp against the stone and all he can think of is the sway of that melody. He just wants it to go on, and on, and on… There's nothing past it. Nothing else is important. He would do _anything_ to stay just like this, with that song warming every bit of him from the inside out. But it ends.

"I'd rather not have you enthralled," comes the murmur from above him, "but you'll need to obey me for this next part. You can do that, can't you, Jason?"

"Yes," he breathes. "Anything, just— just sing, please."

"When I tell you, hold your breath for me," is whispered into his ear. "When I kiss you, take the air I give you. That's all you have to do; I'll take care of all the rest. It'll be cold, but I promise you, you'll survive if you do what I want you to."

Hands tug at him, and his eyes open as he's pulled to the side. There's a small jolt through him as his arm touches water, but then the mer is singing to him again, and that goes away with everything else. He's pulled down into the water, with arms wrapping around his torso to keep his head above it. The song ends again, and Tim leans in, lips pressing to his ear once more and breathing, " _Hold your breath, Captain_."

Jason does.

That long tail wraps around his legs, squeezes them together. He doesn't realize why until the water closes over his head and he's being twisted, pulled down into the dark pit. He knows he should be afraid, but he just isn't capable. When his lungs start to burn, and he can't do anything but finally exhale, Tim's lips find his and a tongue parts his lips. _Air_ rushes into his mouth and he draws it in with desperation; it makes him lightheaded, makes him even more boneless than he was.

He doesn't know how long he's in the water — it could be minutes or an hour; he's in too much of a haze to even try and keep track — but eventually the tail around him loosens and the blackness of the pit gives way to a slight light and the familiar push and pull of waves against his clothing and skin. One more breath, and then before he even starts to need to exhale again his head breaches up through the water. The sudden sound — water against rock; the loud _slap_ of it harsh and abrasive — makes him gasp, his eyes flying open. He stiffens up, makes a sound of pain as he twists away from the light and tries to cover his ears.

Hands intercept his before he can, twisting around his wrists and holding them down. " _Easy_ ," is the order. "There's a ledge at your back, Captain. Climb onto it."

The tail unwinds from his legs, and something in Jason says that maybe he shouldn't follow that order. There's something dangerous about it; about all of it… right? Didn't he—

The fingers around his wrists tighten, and his back hits rock, an edge digging in just beneath his shoulder blades. Tim smiles up at him, and there's a flash of too-sharp teeth in it that actually cuts through the haze he's seeing the world in. He jerks backwards, not that there's anywhere to go, as his instinct screams _predator_ , and _run_ at him, and he realizes with sudden, sharp clarity that he's fallen to a siren song. He's God knows where, soaked through, with a mer in his face and his back literally to a wall. The fingers around his wrists are just tight right now, but all the stories he's heard say that mers have claws that can rip skin right from bone. Even if he isn't eaten here, he could _so_ easily lose a hand, or an arm…

The mer smiles a bit wider, and Jason can feel the rasp of scales against his legs even through the sodden material of his clothing. "On the ledge, Captain," he orders, and it's more hissed now, less human sounding.

Jason shivers; the hands around his wrists let go, and suddenly he finds himself sinking. His legs kick in frantic denial, and it's that panic as much as the urge to get away from the mer that has him turning and throwing an elbow over the ledge, dragging himself up out of the water and onto the rock. His clothes weigh him down, and it's just high enough to be a struggle, but he manages it with a grunt and rolls away from the ledge as soon as possible, fingers scrabbling against it for a hold. The grit scrapes against his skin, but he scrambles to his feet and backs up until his back hits another wall. (Not nearly far enough from the water that he feels safe.)

Tim's arms come up onto the rock, crossing over it and lifting that all too human looking torso up out of the water a bit. Jason presses harder back against the rock, risking a quick glance around to try and figure out where he is and how the hell he can get out of here.

It's a cave; decently high ceiling, rough rock, with a portion above the water that's roughly wide enough he could lie with his feet touching the wall and his fingers in the water, and long enough to fit him twice over. Not enough space, as far as he's concerned, to get away from the creature lurking just at the edge. The mouth of the cave is low, with only about a foot between it and the water; it looks… narrow. Worryingly narrow. But there's light shining through it, reflecting off the water and casting patterns on the rock. The world's out there; it's a way to _escape_. If he can get out.

With a sudden lurch he remembers his weapons. The weight of his sword is still hanging at his thigh and he grabs for it, drawing the steel with a familiar scrape of metal as the mer watches him, mouth curling into a small smirk. Jason swallows, holding the steel between them and trying not to think about how little it means. If the mer sings again…

“Do you think that’s going to protect you?” Tim asks, head tilting to one side. “A little piece of metal?”

“A fucking sharp piece of metal,” he corrects, bracing his other hand against the wall as he turns to face the mer at an angle. “You stay the hell away from me; I’m not going to be your— your _mate_ or whatever it is you want.”

“You’ll fight me first?”

Jason curls his lip up into a snarl, setting his feet a little more firmly against the rock. “You’re Goddamn right I will.”

His first clue that that’s exactly the wrong answer is when Tim smiles, and his second when the mer hisses, “ _Good_.”

Tim pushes off the ledge, dives under the water, and Jason gets exactly one moment of mixed confusion and relief to wonder why. Then there's a flash of a silver and black fin, and a _wave_ of water flying at his face. He ducks, covers his face, just in time to stop it from splashing right into his eyes, but it still soaks him through again. The shock, more than the actual impact, has him pressing back against the wall as he sputters, trying to shake off the bits of water that still make it to his face. He hears the scrape of something against rock and jerks his head up, brandishing the sword even before he figures out what's happening.

The mer is up on the rock, is the first thing his racing mind pinpoints, is _moving_. But then a blur smacks into his sword, wrenching it away from his hand and sending it clattering off across the ledge and into the water. He yelps a fraction too late, jerking back as his mind — too _slowly_ — puts together that Tim is on the ledge, that he spun to send that long, deadly tail flying through the air to disarm him, and that he's now baring sharp teeth up at him and _hissing_ loudly enough that every hair on Jason's arms stands on end.

Fear turns into a panicked sort of anger, and Jason finds himself bracing his hands against the rock wall and taking a breath to _roar_ back, as loud and deep as he can. It rebounds off the walls of the cave, _deafening_ , and God help him Tim _grins_.

The mer's hands brace against the floor and his torso twists, letting the long, black and silver dappled tail fly once more. Jason's too slow to avoid it sweeping both legs out from under him, crashing him down _hard_ onto his back and side. It drives the breath from his lungs.

His shoulders jerk as he tries to draw breath, gaze sliding frantically over the light reflections dancing across the ceiling to try and pull down, to— To get the hell _away_ from the predator coming at him.

He shoves a hand against the floor, tries to push away, but his ribs and his chest ache and all he can manage is a ragged gasp and a few gained inches before Tim is on him. A hand shoves him onto his stomach with easy strength; his chin hits the ground hard enough to definitely bruise. Weight presses down into his back, and Jason chokes a breath he still can't quite fully get as hands press against his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. He kicks out, twisting his waist and trying to get at an angle to hit _anything_ , but heavy weight comes down across the backs of his knees. Not enough to pin him, but enough that he can't get away from it.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," he snarls, breathless. "Get off me!"

Jason flails one hand back, reaching for anything he might be able to grab, to _hurt_. He'll claw with his fucking nails if he has to. He's lucky enough that he finds skin on the first grab, and he digs his nails into it with as much force as he can manage, hoping and praying he draws blood.

Something hot and wet and _sharp_ closes around the back of his neck, and he freezes up on instinct long before his scattered mind puts together that it's a _mouth_. A mouth full of sharp teeth and a jaw strong enough to shatter his spine if the mer just _bites_. Every bit of Jason locks tight, his vision and senses tunneling as instinct screams and screams and _screams_ to _stay still_. Give in. Surrender.

The pressure on his shoulders lessens, and Jason shudders hard enough that the teeth on his neck split skin as he feels his shirt being pulled away from his skin, and then the sound of it ripping. Cool air wafts along his suddenly exposed back, as the tatters of his shirt fall against his sides and then get brushed away by damp fingers. Jason can feel blood sliding in slow drops down his throat, and his own heartbeat is pounding in his ears; he can barely bring himself to breathe.

A hand wraps around his arm, pulling his hand away from whatever skin he'd managed to get his nails into and pressing it firmly into the ground. Then, slowly, the teeth around his neck ease away.

The mer gives a self-satisfied hum, and Jason cringes as a tongue slides out over his neck. "You put up more of a fight than most humans I've hunted, Captain," is murmured against his neck. "With a little bit of work, you'll make a fine mate. Once you give in to being mine."

"I—” Jason chokes on his words the first time, has to swallow and fight down a shiver. "I can't give you what you want. I'm not— I'm not your kind. I'm not a maid; _please_."

"You don't know anything about mers, do you?" Tim sounds amused; Jason flinches when lips press to his neck and teeth scrape over it a fraction later. "That's alright; you'll learn. Now, put your hands down against your hips, Captain." The hand around his wrist drags it down, till it's pressed against his hip and thigh. "Just like this. Now the other one."

Teeth scrape over his neck again before Jason gives in to the demand, slowly pulling his free arm down until it's pressed to his other side.

"Good boy. Now _stay_."

The tail on his knees moves, and Jason fights his desire to run as hands press his shoulders down once more, and the teeth settle back around his neck. Fights it even as that long tail moves, winding around his legs and then his hips, pinning his arms down where they are and immobilizing him in all the ways that matter before they squeeze _tight_. Only the threat behind the teeth keeps him still; if he really fights this, if he struggles, those teeth might just come right down on his spine and break it into a dozen pieces. He could die _so_ easily.

Tim's teeth come off his neck, and he barely has a moment to feel relief before the tail wrapped around him pulls even tighter. It _hurts_. One hand shifts to press closer towards the middle of his back, just off center from his spine and flattening him down against the ground. The other pulls away, then touches the back of his neck. Lightly.

"Take a breath, Captain," Tim orders. "This is going to hurt."

He takes a breath to speak, to ask _what_ , and then those fingers on his neck press in and they're suddenly _clawed_. Two neat slices open up lines of fire in a diagonal V at the base of his neck, and his breath comes out a sharp yell instead of a question. He jerks but he's pinned down too heavily, and he doesn't manage anything but twisting his head, which only makes the pain in his neck flare higher.

The touch vanishes. Jason barely hears the small grunt the mer gives, over the sound of his own harsh breaths.

When something presses up, _into_ his neck, Jason yells again. It's rigid, sharp where it shoves into the muscle beneath his skin, and at first he thinks it's a claw but it feels too big, and when the hand withdraws, the _thing_ stays. He shakes, trying not to move or aggravate whatever the hell is now _in his neck._

Then the claws make another V over his spine, three knobs down.

He grits his teeth together and fights back another cry of pain, nostrils flaring wide as he tries to keep breathing. "What— What are you _doing?"_ he manages to spit, in the moments where those claws leave his skin.

The hand pressed to his back increases its pressure, holding him down a bit more securely. "Putting my scales in your back. Most mers have forgotten, but I'm from old lines; I know all the bits of old craft. It's only five more; you can take it."

It isn't until after the second scale pushes into the slice in his back, and after he's shrieked into the rock beneath him, that he can gasp a strained, " _Why?_ "

"To make you stronger." Fingers trail down through the blood leaking over his back, tapping against each successive bump of his spine until they pause on one, another three down. "You'll be better when I'm done with you, Captain. You'll heal, you'll change, and you'll be _mine_."

It's faster then, and he has no time to respond. Claws slice his skin open, followed quickly by scales pushing in, and each one is worse than the last. Every twitch of his back, every time he tenses or arches or _screams_ , fire burns down the length of his spine. That only makes him yell louder. He can feel the tacky, liquid warmth of his own blood spilling across his back, and he doesn't know whether it's good or bad that he can't actually feel the scales themselves, just a sharp slice of pain when he shifts and they dig in.

There are tears on his face, his mouth parted as he gasps for air, when the mer at his back finally lifts both hands away from him. He can only shake and give breathy cries of pain as Tim's tail unwinds from around him, finally releasing his limbs and leaving him flat on the ground. His fingers curl against the rocks. They're slippery; wet with what he’s pretty sure is blood but he doesn’t want to look and confirm that. His boots scrape against the ground as he shifts, trying to get something underneath him, to get some sort of power back.

"Easy," is the quiet command from above him. Fingers touch his hair, sliding through it even though he flinches away. "It will hurt for awhile; you'll feel sick, feverish. Then it will get easier, and you'll be stronger. Someday, you'll thank me."

"Won't," he grits out. "Whatever you— you did to me. I _won't_."

Tim smiles down at him. "We'll see."

* * *

After the first time Jason tries to dig one of the scales out with his own fingers, ripping the top-most wound open again, Tim keeps his hands bound together. It doesn't stop him from trying, but it does mean that whenever Tim leaves him alone he can also secure his hands around or underneath bits of the rock, so he doesn't have to be watched. When Tim is around his hands are still tied, but there's so much focus on him that he doesn't dare to try anything so blatantly like fighting.

Honestly, he's not sure he could manage to actually do it at this point anyway. The edges of the slices have mostly closed together, and Tim was right; he feels feverish and weak, like he's come down with something particularly nasty. His spine throbs like it's one long, connected injury, in low, dizzying pulses that leave him unable to lift his head most times, let alone gather the will to rip open one of his mostly healed wounds and dig something out of his flesh.

Tim enjoys lying next to him when he's feeling particularly out of it, stretched out at his back and grazing teeth and lips over his throat. Or with Tim leaning back against a wall, and his head in what passes for a lap. That's where fingers stroke through his hair, often luring him into a shivering, half-waking fever dream about one inane subject or another. It has to last at least a couple weeks, but he's too disoriented and out of it to keep track of how the light changes, or how long he's actually been here.

Eventually, after the pain and then the awful itching all across his back that makes him want to tear his own skin off (Tim sluices water over him for that part, and it helps), he starts to feel almost normal again. The fever clears, and though he still feels weak and newly sensitive to every bit of input, he's capable of actually being conscious and lucid once again. Tim seems pleased by that, and Jason glares harder in response and jerks farther away from his touches the stronger he feels. It doesn't seem to dissuade Tim's attention at all, but it makes _him_ feel a little better.

He still doesn't know what's been done to him, though. Something's different, he knows it is, he can _feel_ it, but he doesn't know what it is. Not knowing grates at him. (He wants it to be _over_ , even if that means something terrible. Even if that means he's trapped here.)

Then, one day, Tim slices off the ropes around his wrists. Jason only has a second to appreciate that, to actually stretch his arms for the first time in God knows how long, before Tim grabs him by the ankle and _yanks_ him down over the ledge. He yelps, fingers clawing at the rock to try and slow him down, but there's nothing to grab. He manages a deep breath in before he crashes down beneath the water, and strong arms wrap around his chest as they sink deeper.

Struggling is as useless as he always knew it would be, but he thrashes anyway. He can't _not_. The arms around his chest squeeze tighter and he fights the mounting pressure to keep his breath, clawing at Tim’s skin and kicking backwards at his tail. He knows he breaks skin, he can feel the sudden slight warmth in the water from the blood, but it doesn’t get him set free. Jason feels them hit the bottom of the pool, the light above only a faint glimmer, his thrashing kicking up what looks like sand and clouding the water.

His lungs _burn_.

Jason resists the urge to breathe in, but he can feel himself getting weaker. His vision was already murky, but it’s starting to spot black now and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s about to die. He doesn’t know why — he doesn’t _understand_ why Tim would put so much time into him only to kill him — but he knows it’s about to happen. Maybe whatever Tim wanted from him didn’t work, and the backup plan is just to _eat_ him. His head falls back as he weakens, gaze focused on those last few glimpses of sunlight above him.

His mouth opens; he breathes in the water.

 _Life_ comes back to him, and he doesn't understand it but his lungs expand, his back arching as he gasps in water and somehow _breathes_. Tim lets go, leaving him to drift and to try and understand what's happening. Jason twists, putting his back to the sandy bottom and feeling something in him open and _stretch_.

All of those feelings of sensitivity sharpen, and he realizes that there's a taste on his tongue that he recognizes as blood, and he knows instantly that it's not his. His gaze snaps to the side, finds the figure floating there, black hair lifting around his head and sharp teeth bared in an open smile that raises his hackles. The blood is from the clawed gashes littering his lower arms, and all at once Jason knows that he caused those, that he's wounded Tim. He's not expecting the vicious satisfaction that comes with that knowledge.

The snarl comes automatically, his lip curling up as he turns to push one hand into the sand at the bottom of the pit, his toes and the fingers of that single hand digging into the sand. He takes another slightly hesitant breath of water, that taste of blood sharpening on his tongue, his vision focusing on the mer in front of him.

Tim's smile turns to something sharper. Predatory. His tail flicks to the side, eyes narrowing as those teeth bare back at him. It's a threat, and Jason waits to feel the fear that's become so familiar, but it doesn't come. Instead he feels anticipation, and his… The tips of his fingers are itching, and a moment later he realizes his gums are too. He blinks, slowly realizing that his vision isn't just clear, it's _better_. It's bright and clear and he can see so much further through the water than he could before. It's… There's something about his eyes that's different.

Then Tim lunges at him, and every thought about what's happening to him goes out the window.

He's not fast enough to get out of the way, and one shoulder hits his ribs, driving him backwards until he cracks into the rock wall of the pool. His breath comes out in a rush, but it doesn't hurt as much as he expected it to and he's quick to take another breath and claw towards Tim's face. To his surprise, when his nails drag across one cheek, they raise bloody lines in their wake, as if he had— had claws.

Fire burns across his ribs and he yelps and jerks away, curling his legs in and _shoving_ out with all the strength he can manage. It actually pushes Tim away from him; he uncurls and now the blood he can taste is partially his too. He can tell the _difference_.

Tim twists back to face him, and he looks _excited._ Somehow, Jason thinks he's feeling just the same.

He parts his mouth, and he doesn't know where it comes from or why, but he _shrieks_ into the water with all of the bundled anger and excitement spinning in his chest and Tim's eyes _light_ up. There's the flick of that silver and black tail, the more delicate fins along its length fluttering in the water, and Jason doesn't know how he hears the hissing noise that's the response to his shriek but somehow it's clear. He bares his teeth and pushes off the wall with as much force as he can manage.

But Tim just moves around him as if he's standing still, weaving around him in a tight curl and then coming down _hard_ against his back. He hits the sand, and then there are clawed fingers at his shoulders that flip him over with stunning ease, putting him on his back. He lashes out, clawing for arms or sides or anything he can get his hands on as he twists, but Tim intercepts them. His arms hit the sands, Tim darts in, and then there are _teeth at his throat_ and Jason freezes up at the sharp prick of them.

He can feel the hiss as much as he can hear it, before those teeth split his skin for real and suddenly every bit of the tension in him just drains away. His eyelids flicker, and the bite… It _hurts_ , but he doesn't have a desire to get away and he doesn't know why. This just feels… right. Something about it is just right.

The teeth slide away. He feels hazed, slow, and that doesn't go away as Tim circles an arm around his chest and pulls him along. His eyes close, and he eases into the feeling of the water moving against his skin.

He doesn't come back to himself until he starts to feel the push and pull of a real tide, and when he opens his eyes there's sunlight above the water. It's bright, and he ends up slanting his eyes mostly closed as he looks up at it, admiring the pattern of it from down here. Then, a few moments later, Tim pulls him past that surface and up into the air. He chokes for a moment as the water in his mouth gets in the way of him inhaling real air, but a cough sorts it out. Wet sand presses against his back, and he turns his head away from the sudden heat of the sun.

Fingers trail over his cheek and then up into his hair, raking it back from his forehead. He looks up.

"Jason." Tim's hand lingers in his hair. "It's done now. You're mine."

He takes a breath; the air almost feels weird now. "You… What did you do to me? What did you turn me into? I'm— I'm not a—”

"A mer? No. You'll have the instincts of one of my kind, but you won't change any more than you already have." The fingers slide down to his throat, tracing the stinging lines of the bite there; Jason shivers. "I promised you'd be better, didn't I? You are. Stronger, and faster, and you can breathe in my world now. Now you can stay with me."

Jason blinks and stares. He doesn't… "I don't want to stay with you," he says, the words coming out rough. "I— I'm not _yours_. I won't be." But there's some part of him, something new, that makes him feel like that's a lie. Something to do with the bite on his throat and how he'd surrendered. There's… There's something there and _damnit_ but he doesn't know what it is.

"You will," Tim answers, and he seems utterly assured of that. Like it's an indisputable fact. "Welcome to my world, Captain."


End file.
